The Tubers: Vol1 - Timeless
by GraceyLIKEABOSS
Summary: The clock, it ticks. It stops for no one; until you remove both batteries... There is always something to lose. There is always something to win. There are always worries, there are always hopes. Nothing you can say can change that. Nothing. But not in this world. Balance is missing. It has been stolen. Mark, depressed and angred. Jack, lonely and afraid. Will balance ever return?
1. Chapter I - Coffee

Mark took his coffee mug from the office kitchen and stared down at the black, lifeless drink he would down every morning. He loathed the taste but still, for a reason he was unsure of, willingly consumed it at his desk, day after day, week after week, month after month. Perhaps he drank it to take his mind off his tedious job or to punish himself for not attempting to make a move against him. He had caused Mark so much suffering but he had not stood up, for he needed to stay within his favour. Whatever the reason, Mark drank and felt the liquid ooze down his throat. It still felt like a cold beverage, no matter how much he heated it up, it always seemed to be the same icy temperature.

Mark looked around the room as he always did and saw the same kitchen, as he always did. He always stood in this spot to take his first sip. It was pointless really. There was never anything new to look at. He supposed he did it because the familiarity was comforting, unlike anything else in his life. His gaze found the blonde haired man with unusually dark eyes standing by the magazine stand, the usual. The lady behind the bench counting money from the register with fiery red hair, the usual. The man or woman whose face Mark never saw sat on the sofa masked by their newspaper, the usual.

They all seemed content and happy. Simultaneously, every action they performed seemed robotic and mindless. He would never pick on them. Mark wondered if they knew something he didn't. Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one who didn't feel complete every day, like something was missing.

Mark didn't want to leave his spot to go into the tiny, claustrophobic cubicles he was forced to spend ten hours in every day. None the less, he had to or he was going to give him a hard time. So Mark lowered the mug from his lips and walked to the matrix of prisons to find his cell. When he stood upright he could clearly see over all of the cubicles. He wondered why they even bothered putting "walls" in between them as they offered the employees less privacy than the peak of a bare mountain. All of them were slightly different, some had photos on their walls, others had drawings made by their darling children. Some had a hideous working space and others were well organised with the tiniest of notes stored away into neat little boxes and trays. But they all shared the same strange trait. Their almost hypnotic mindlessness.

Again Mark wondered how they were all so content just sitting at their desks just, well, working. Perhaps that was why he never picked on them, because they were happy and willingly did what he asked. Mark on the other hand, wasn't the loyalist of employees. He easily became bored at his desk and would often find himself screwing old notes into the tightest of balls and trying to throw them into his bin for entertainment. He had nicknamed his game, Office Diversion. He was pretty proud of that name. It was the only pride this job ever allowed him to have.

When Mark finally found his humble little cubicle he set his mug upon his desk and slumped into the hard plastic chair provided by the compact package. He checked his to do list and then his digital clock. It read 10:03am. His heart skipped a beat as the strange sensation of someone watching him quivered down his spine. He nervously glanced upwards from his desk to see him leaning on the wall of his cubical. His eyes were hidden inside the flab of his dead straight brows, from that, Mark read a disapproving expression. He swallowed dryly. "Mr Dominus sir," Mark's voice broke as the words came out making him sound like a twelve year old boy even though he was twenty-five year old man. That was what happened when he was around his boss.

The reason Mark hated this fat, obnoxious man was that he had tricked him. Mark had applied for his job thinking it would be temporary. A source of income to make sure he could eat and pay the rent until he could figure out what to do with his life. Mr Dominus had seemed so nice at the interview, like a welcoming, adaptable boss. Boy had he gotten that wrong. Before hiring Mark, Mr Dominus had presented him with a contract and stated that it was "just some technical stuff" and that he had to sign it before being employed. Mark hadn't thought much of it at the time and willingly signed without reading it through first. What he later found out was that contract was binding. It stated that he was to work for Mr Percival Dominus for three years and would receive no other income from anyone or anything. It was a devious move and on Mark's first day on the job, his new boss explained to him what he had signed up for and then immediately began treating him like a slave. Like a slave, he whipped him and the lashes hit hard. And so Mark was forced to endure the beatings and the labour, ten hours a day, five days a week, fifty weeks a year. That was why Mark hated his boss like an angel would Satan.

Mark dared not make eye contact and kept his head angled awkwardly towards his desk. "Mr Fischbach," he addressed Mark reproachfully, "would you mind explaining to me why you are an hour late this morning?" Damn right I would he thought to himself. He didn't want to tell him, or anybody for that matter. It was embarrassing and he hardly admitted it to himself. So he made an excuse instead, "My car broke down and I had to get it toed." It was a terrible lie but it would do the job. Mr Dominus grunted and dealt out his punishment, "Well if that's the case I'm afraid you'll have to stay until eight o'clock today!"

That was when the funeral started. Her funeral. She had died very recently in a terrible car crash. She was what kept Mark motivated to go to work everyday, to keep in touch with his family that lived half way across the country. After her death, nothing felt right. He continually denied that she was gone and was always half expecting to see her waiting for him after work. Her death was so sudden. So unbelievable. She was so young. To miss her funeral would be something else. That would be a whole new level of grief. The only reason Mark came to work that day was because he knew he would be able to come home and go say goodbye to her. No. This was something Mr Dominus would not have a say in.  
"No." He said.  
"I beg your pardon?" Mark immediately regretted his decision and slumped back down into his seat, becoming afraid again.  
"I-I have a funeral I have to attend at eight o'clock." Mark stuttered.  
"Well does it look like I give a damn? Get back to work and I want to see you at your desk until eight o'clock or you can kiss your pay check goodbye!" With that he stood up straight and charged back into his private office.

The whip cracked and the wound bled as Mark realised he would have to choose between eating and seeing her off. It shouldn't have been a hard decision but it was. Enraged, Mark violently shoved all the papers off his desk and slammed his head into the newly clear surface. The pain was excruciating but it did not compare to the fiery anger growing inside of him. With every second his head lay on the desk his eyes became more and more full with water and his vision was blurred like smoke lingering from the flames inside him. How could someone be so insensitive? There were many levels of evil and what Mark's boss had just done to him was the lowest form. In his anger and sadness Mark whispered to himself, "Oh Charlie, why did you leave me?"


	2. Chapter II - Window

**Top of the mornin' to ya everybody my name is GRACEYlikeAboss! I know this chapter has taken a long time to come out but have the plot PROPERLY planned out now so chapters should come a lot more regularly from now on. First of all I would like to thank Zosonils for the shoutout on her AMAZING story Legacy and if ANY of you have not read it, it is sooooooo good you should really check her out! :)I am going to ramble on about some stuff now so feel free to skip the author's notes! Thank you everyone for your kind reviews and constructive feedback! If it wasn't for the reviews, favourites, follows and what not, I would not have the motivation to continue writing this! I would like to formally thank all five of you! This is the largest audience I have ever had, so thanks! :) Also if you can think of a better name for this than The Tubers then please do PM me! Anyway, on with the chapter!**

"Gizmo? Gizmo!" Jack cried out to his little dog as he finally spied her- on the other side of the road. It was especially busy and Jack could see his animal friend only in inconsistent flashes in between the lightning fast streaks of cars rushing past. "Gizmo!" He called out desperately to her but heard no reassuring bark in reply. He scanned the curb as best he could but could no longer see her anywhere. Jack spun around in a panic to find Gizmo but the blur of colour from the mechanical engines circled him like wolves closing in on their prey. As the cars became harder and harder to make out, they transformed into a cone of fury, a tornado. Jack's feet were flung off the ground and he flew into the core of the storm. There he saw Gizmo, staring through the window of his cabin, trapped inside. Jack opened his mouth to call her name but no words came out. The cabin was moving. It was coming straight for him. At high speeds. "AAAH!"

Jack sat up from his bed, hot and itchy from the nightmare. He breathed a slow breath, relieved that it was over and he was safe inside. He knew that his dog was okay but called her anyway to relieve him of his anxiety. "Gizmo?" Sure enough, his bundle of joy came dancing to him across the wooden floor of cabin and jumped onto his lap, bathing Jack in her slobber. "Down girl! Down!" He laughed at her playfulness. What would he do without her, his companion, his play mate, his annoying sibling, his reassurance. Every time he looked at Gizmo's cute little face, it filled him with happiness.

Gizmo ceased her leaping at her dad's command and sat still, staring at Jack as if waiting for something. She soon realized nothing was coming and bounced of the bed, probably off to make herself breakfast. Jack had always admired how smart she was and praised her for it. Then he was reminded. His stupid brain. Didn't know what was best for him. Jack, with an effort, pushed the thought to the back of his head, never to be heard from again.

Having only woken up a few moments ago, Jack was still adjusting to reality from the vivid experience of his dream. He lay back down on his bed, eyes wide as golf balls. What was his dream about? He could hardly remember it now. It had something to do with a storm and Gizmo but was unsure of the exact happenings, only that it played on his worst fear.

Jack then gave up trying to remember what happened in that mind-numbing nightmare and focused of the patterns in the wood on his ceiling. The timber was very brightly coloured, one might almost call it orange. He thought he could see an army in the wood, being led by a woman with an interesting hairstyle. He couldn't tell what it was they were attacking. It could be many things but Jack could not think of any off the top of his head. It wasn't everyday he saw an object that was designed as though the inventor had spilt a bucket of paint on the original blueprints. Perhaps they were attacking terrible art. He giggled softly at his joke and found the effort to sit up again.

The sound of dog food spilling all over the kitchen floor was enough to get him out of bed. "Gizmo!" He called to his mischievous dog. Jack exited the bedroom and came to his small kitchen which, as he suspected, had indeed, been freshly coated with dog food. In the midst of it all, Jack spied a shocked Gizmo, dead still from the fright. "You're lucky you're so damn cute or you'd be in a lot of trouble." Gizmo snapped back into action at the sound of Jack's voice. For a moment, he observed the accident and gathered that Gizmo had knocked the box of dog food off of the kitchen counter by jumping off of a box that, last time Jack saw it, was in the living room.

He knew he should be angry with Gizmo for making such a mess but Jack was honestly quite impressed. "You're a smart little thing aren't you?" He bent down and gave his dog a good old noogie just to let her know that he hadn't completely overlooked the great mess on the floor. "You're gonna help me clean this up!" Jack grinned a cheeky grin.

Gizmo didn't know what he said but understood fully, without hesitation, she got to work "cleaning" up her mess. Jack stood up, laughing at her enthusiasm. He probably shouldn't have let her be doing that, he wasn't made of money after all. She would need breakfast the next day, and the day after that. Being unemployed, he had told himself time after time that he needed to be conservative but couldn't bring himself to be so.

Jack again was reminded. What did I tell you? He scolded his brain. That's the last thing I need to think about right now.

Trying hard to ignore the thought, Jack proceeded to the other side of the kitchen, the side that wasn't covered in dog food, and began making himself a black coffee.

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Jack lay in his armchair watching the television, sipping on his coffee. That was how his mornings would go. Without warning, the TV left its smooth streaming fashion behind and became static and jittery. Jack swore. That was the fifth time this week! He hated living in this isolated cabin. He turned his attention to the window that sat to the right wall of the television. It was raining. It wasn't surprising of course, living in Ireland ensured that rain was a regular visitor. Jack practically knew the dreary weather like it was a friend after twenty-four years of it. The only difference was that the rejected clouds were not human and Jack was not particularly fond of it.

As he became bored of watching the rain through the window, a certain puppy came rolling into the living room. Gizmo was a mess. Her face had been smeared in dog food, her stomach seemed to have inflated and was hopeless at moving. Jack laughed hysterically at what she had turned into. "You finished cleaning up have you?" He continued to laugh for a few more seconds and then became sympathetic. "Oh! Come here!" Jack got up from his seat and picked up Gizmo in a loving embrace.

The cuddle didn't last long and Gizmo jumped out of his arms, racing towards the window. She always liked watching the rain. A lot of the time it lulled her to sleep. Having eaten all of the dog food in the kitchen, she almost immediately dozed off. Realistically, it took a minute or so before she was truly asleep but the effect took place quickly. Jack stared out the window himself and saw a field. He saw himself and Gizmo bounding around, playing fetch and what not. Those days were over now. He felt tears welling up in his eyes but blinked them back.

No Jack, you have to be strong. Gizmo will get better, she will. He tried reassuring himself but that only opened the gate for the tears to come through. Hot, salty drops of water bleed from his eyes faster than he could stop them. This time he embraced the thought. He would have to accept it sooner or later. One of his tears fell onto Gizmo's unconscious body as lightning flashed into his home, unwelcome. He grew angry and then even sadder. Deep down in his heart, he knew that not many dogs survived cancer.


	3. Chapter III - Roses

**WAPOOSH! Top of the morning to ya everybody, my name is GRACEYlikeAboss! Woah, this is a looong chapter! Sorry about that! There was just so much to cover in this that it ended up _doubling_ the average amount of words. If you like this length though, please do let me know! I'm still sort of figuring out what'll work best. Yeah so, keep those reviews coming! They're really helpful! I _LOVE_ receiving feedback! Also, I've created a poll about the name of this fanfic. If you have would like to participate, it would be a huge help! Also if have any ideas about the title yourself please PM me. I know its probably hard because you havn't much insight into the plot at the moment but, just vote for whichever you think sounds the best. Alright, thanks guys! Enjoy Chapter III - Roses. :)**

 _SCREECH!_ The tires on Mark's car screamed like the voice inside his head which was forcefully pushing him to go faster. He checked the rear-view mirror briefly to make sure that he was not being pursued by police as he sped around the corner. As the next piece of the road slowly revealed itself, Mark saw just what he needed; a straightaway. _VROOM!_ Mark pushed the accelerator so hard, his foot might as well have gone through the bottom of the car and into the road. But it didn't and the speedometer changed from 60 mph to 100 mph almost instantaneously. As Mark sped up, the world slowed down. A rabbit running along the side of the road seemed to stop its dance in mid-air. All the sounds around him became deeper, clumsier, sleepier. It felt like that one moment a ball would stay hovering in the air after throwing it before it came tumbling down towards the Earth.

The slow sound of his navigator echoed eerily in the vehicle and suddenly the world returned to normal speed. "Speed camera ahead," it said. Mark swore loudly. That would've been nice to know beforehand! The whole world seemed to be against him. He had lost his best friend, his boss was trying to prevent him from attending her funeral – Google Maps was trying to get him arrested, for goodness sakes!

Mark took his foot off the accelerator and onto the brakes. He slowed down but not soon enough. He had passed the speed camera at 80mph. Great! That was one more thing he had to worry about. He returned to 60mph a few seconds after he passed the camera, just in time for the intersection up ahead.

"Turn left in 100 meters," the navigator announced. He reached the intersection and came to a stop. While checking for traffic, Mark regretfully glanced at the digital clock wrapped inside the radio and climate control. 8:12. Flames of anger once again sprung up, burning his mind in agony. Mark slammed his fist into the dashboard. Intense burning pulsed through his knuckles. He retracted his arm immediately and rubbed his hand to soothe it.

"Okay, easy Mark, easy. Deep breath in, deep breath ou-." The horn of an impatient driver had pulled up behind him. In his rear-view mirror he spied the yellow square marked with a "P" on the bottom of the windscreen. He had no doubt it was a bloody eighteen-year-old, high on testosterone. Mark grumbled at the driver, irrationally hoping that he heard. He then proceeded to make the left turn, angrier than before. He didn't even bother trying to calm himself down this time. There was no point to it. It was like trying to extinguish a fire by adding wood to the concoction.

"Your destination is on the left." Without making an effort, Mark parked his car in a crooked fashion on the side of the road. When he stepped out, the damp smell of the evening filled his nose. The sky was dark and white starry embers burnt in it, mocking him. Without a thought, Mark broke into a sprint towards the church on the other side of the road. Every second felt like an hour. He had no intention to waste a single moment. A rainbow of colours fell out of the stained glass window on the front of the church, indicating that the funeral had started.

Mark ran up the steps leading to the chapel and burst through the doors violently. They slammed against the wall creating a huge racket. Twenty, maybe thirty people turned their heads to face Mark and the speaker who stood in front of them all, behind a thin, modernised lectern paused her speech and glared at Mark. For a brief moment, the gaping new hole in the wall let in a small a draft that chilled the back of his legs. On a normal day, he would've been embarrassed and would've cringed like a raisin, baking in the sun. He would've shrivelled like a tomato left outside for far too long. His mind would've willed his head to fall into his neck, his neck to fall into his shoulders and his shoulders to fall into his body until there was nothing left of him at all.

But this was not a normal day. This day had so mutilated Mark's mind to give no care whatsoever of what anyone else thought. On this day, he disregarded the audience's stare and gently closed the wide open doors behind him, then strutted casually to a back pew that no one else had occupied.

The eyes of the speaker followed him with disgust until he had settled into his seat, as if he were some sort of grotesque insect and was contemplating whether to squish him under her foot. Mark returned the favour and felt disgusted towards her. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally looked away and returned to her speech. "As Charlie's sister, it has been hard for me but I will always remember her for being the big sister that laughed with me when I needed it and cried with me when I needed it, she never left my side."

Of course. Clair, Charlie's sassy younger sister. He didn't know why he didn't recognise her at once. Mark supposed that he was so filled with anger that he didn't stop to think about how important the speaker may have been to Charlie. She had loved her so much but Clair never seemed to appreciate it. She was jealous of Mark and Charlie's relationship together even though they were never officially dating and were well into the friend zone. At least, that was what Mark tried to think. He knew that Charlie didn't think of him in that way and so he let the matter rest. But Clair, oh Clair, she wouldn't let it go, she was so convinced that they were dating. Nothing either Charlie or Mark said persuaded her otherwise. As a result, she was dead jealous of them. I say 'them' but really, all of the anger that came from her jealousy was targeted at Mark.

But at Charlie's funeral, it was Mark's duty as a friend to respect her beloved sister, despite all the wrongs she had done. Clair, Mark and everyone in the pews, at least had one thing in common, they all loved and missed Charlie.

"I know that she will go on to live eternally in Jesus' arms, remembered by all of us." With that, Clair concluded her eulogy and walked glumly back to the front pew, where her mother and father sat, consoling each other.

Mark's neck was fixed towards a spot directly above where Clair's head had been, staring into space. In his gaze, he caught a glimpse of the pastor eyeing him as if to say, "Go on! Go on!" Mark snapped out of his trance at the sudden realization that he had to present a eulogy. Mark swore to himself without moving his lips. He forgotten completely. Mark sighed. _If you loved Charlie, you'll be able to come up with something._ So taking a deep breath, he straightened his newly tense legs and stood from his pew.

The journey towards the lectern was agonising. He spotted reproachful looks in all of their eyes as he made his way up. They all read, "Someone who arrives late to a funeral should not be allowed to present a eulogy." Mark felt ashamed of his punctuality and his entrance. Having listened to Clair's speech, Mark gained a new feeling, remorse. What would Charlie have said? Her best friend had arrived late to her _funeral…_ But it wasn't his fault… It was _his_ fault… As he stepped up to the lectern, he made himself a promise, right then and there, he would make his boss _pay._

Standing there, in front of everyone, Mark realised he had been looking down until then. His skin heated up. It started to feel damp and sticky. His heart rate increased. _No, deep breath._ Mark took a gulp rather than a breath but it did the trick. "So," the microphone squealed throughout the church. Everyone winced at the sound. He took another deep breath. "Sorry, um…" Mark's mind was racing. _Um? Really? Way to break the mood._ What to say, what to say… It crossed Marks mind that there were so many things he wanted to say, but couldn't put it into words. _Just speak your heart._

"Charlie Wright," he started, "she was always right. Whether it was what to buy at Starbucks or if we should move house, she always knew what to say." Mark's lips started to curl in towards his mouth and tears started welling up in his eyes, he blinked them away, rebellious.

"To say that I was proud to be able to call Charlie my best friend, wouldn't even begin to describe how I feel." A lump in Mark's throat began to build up like a tumour. It hurt like a demon but he pressed on.  
"She was kind, compassionate, and stern when she needed to be. She also made great coffee!" The audience released a small giggle in acknowledgment of his little joke. It was oh so true; she was the only person who could make his coffee taste warm. It was riddled with love.  
"Now, I know I was not the only person to be presented with this humility, this love, this gift of hers... she showed it to everyone she passed. I remember this one time, we were at the mall, we saw this poor little kid who'd couldn't find his dad. Charlie, being the person that she was," there was no longer a point in holding the tears back, they started overflowing. He tried wiping them away but they only spread further on his face. A sob squeezed its way out of his throat.  
"Being the person that she was, she went and bought him an ice-cream. After that we helped him to find his dad. He offered to give us some money in return but Charlie said, 'No, your son's smile is enough for me!'" More tears streamed down his face as he relished in that memory. He sobbed again.  
"You know what the really sad thing is?" Mark found that he wasn't asking the audience, he was really asking Charlie.  
"Charlie Wright was twenty-four. She had so much more of her life ahead of her. She had dreams! She had ambitions! She had a life! And when that car crashed, all of that was taken from her. She was the least deserving person of that fate. But did that stop it from happening to her? No... IT'S NOT FAIR!" Mark very quickly realised he had shouted and immediately regretted it. He tried making a comeback and said it quieter, "It's not fair." He knew it was true; it felt so good to shout it out loud. He wanted to do it again, but refrained from it. Oh Charlie, she didn't deserve to die, she didn't, she really didn't. No other thoughts came to mind.  
"Charlie didn't deserve to die."

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Everyone had left the church for the dinner before the burial except for Mark. It was 9:30 and Mark stood in front of Charlie's coffin. He could hardly believe that she was dead. Seeing her coffin sealed the deal. Mark still half expected her to be standing beside him, holding his hand, keeping him afloat. He closed his eyes for a moment. He willed her to be there. How soft her hand felt; it sent warmth to the tips of his fingers, to his arms, then to his shoulders and finally to his heart. He inhaled the feeling, hoping it would last. Mark opened his eyes, satisfied. He glanced to his right and saw...

"Charlie? Is that you?" Her image was so clear. She was there with him. He could see her. He could feel her.  
"Mark, see the bright side." She said in an angelic voice. She started to fade.  
"No, Charlie! Don't leave me! NO!" Mark lashed out at her but he was too late. She had dissolved into the air like some sort of apparition.

Had he imagined it? He couldn't have, it had felt so real. Mark had seen Charlie, right next to him. She was there. He was sure. He felt her hand in his! She had spoken to him! What had she meant? There was no bright side! The most influential and capable person in Mark's life had died, at twenty-four years old. There was no bright side.

Perhaps he had imagined it. Mark recalled reading something online that said people who were grieving often imagined their lost one with them. It was probably just that. He had imagined it. The reality was, Charlie was gone. There was nothing he could do about it. Mark wished that he would stop being so nostalgic about it. Charlie was gone. If he really loved her, then he would accept that. Charlie was gone.

Charlie's coffin had been beautifully decorated with flowers of all sizes and shapes, mainly peonies. That was what she told everyone her favourite flower was. It hadn't been though. "I feel like you should know something that no one else does." She had said to him, "It may not seem like much but it'll mean you have something that no one can take from you or give to you." She had leaned close into Mark's ear and whispered to him, "My favourite flowers aren't peonies. They're roses. It's because, they have more than just one dimension to them. Roses have thorns."

Mark had thought it absurd at the time, that she had lied to everyone her entire life about her favourite flower. But now Mark understood. By doing that, when she found them, she could share something special with someone special. Something that made them special. Mark felt beyond honoured that Charlie had chosen him, out of all the hundreds of people knew and had known, someone as special as Charlie, had chosen Mark to be that one person that she had told. Her favourite flower was a rose.

Mark didn't have any roses with him to put on her coffin. He added that to the list of things he had forgotten today. The sanctuary of the church was divided from the chapel by a large, brick arch which was decorated heavily with candles and carvings. On either side of the arch, stood two stands that looked as though they were built to be a reading nook or even an old fashioned desk. Instead of books and inkwells, the stands both housed large vases of flowers. They grew broader nearer to the bottom and thinner nearer to the top, like a wine glass. The vases had no patterns but they didn't need it for the flowers they held were grand and colourful. There must have been thirty or so flowers in each. They had been arranged so perfectly and meticulously. Just like Charlie had been.

Against all the odds, they had roses in them. Mark spotted a particularly thorny one near the middle of the bouquet on the left. It was bright purple and shone like a star amongst the others. Surely the pastor would allow him the liberty of _one_ flower. Leaving all his other thoughts behind, Mark took the rose from the bunch. He pricked himself on one of the razor sharp thorns. It stung like it did when he received the terrible news. It was worth the pain though. He placed the radiant flower on her coffin with utmost precision, making sure not to damage either the petals, the stem, or even the thorns; they were all important to her.

"I hope you like your rose Charlie." Mark uttered to the box. From some dark place he never knew existed in his head, Mark heard two words. "I do."

 **Oooh, cliffhanger. Thankyou so much for reading! I had a lot of fun with this chapter and No. IV will be out soon! Again, if you can, please do vote in the poll, really appreciate it! You guys are amazing! Bye! :)**


	4. Chapter IV - Filght

**Hey guys! This chapter is the longest one yet! Hopefully it doesn't drag on too much but I had to get a lot to happen because plot advancement and crap. Thank you fro all of your lovely reviews. I really do appreciate every one. If you do have a spare second or two then a quick sentence on what you thought of the chapter is amazingly helpful. Like, you don't even know. Anyway, thank you so much for staying with me this far! I never thought I would get any audience at all so I am just so grateful. But, with all that aside, let's get on with the chapter! Hope you enjoy! :)**

Jack could read the expression on the doctor's face. It was an expression he had grown to know much better than he would've liked to. Her eyes were directed at her feet, her lips curled inside her mouth. It was the face that a person would wear when they were the bringer of bad news. The doctor took a deep sigh, "Jack," her thick London accent filled the room as he braced himself for the blow, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but..." she took another breath, "Well, Gizmo's condition is worsening. I've never seen anything this bad in my life." Jack's heart skipped a beat. His insides twisted into a knot. All the blood and warmth were drained from his face.

"There is still hope though!" The doctor was leaning towards Jack as if to reassure him. She had said it hastily and messily as though she had to say it immediately. Only then did Jack notice the cold tear that had escaped from his eye. It felt so cold it challenged that of his already frosty body. Embarrassed, Jack wiped the unwanted thing away and focused on the doctor.  
"Scientists are working on a new treatment for dogs with brain cancer in Los Angles. They're looking for people to test it on." This struck Jack. He thought over what she had just told him. New treatment. Dogs with brain cancer. LA. LA? But that was half way across the world!  
"Unfortunately, your current pet insurance won't cover the flight. But if you're willing to go, it might be Gizmo's last hope." Last hope.

Jack didn't have to think twice about it, "Alright, what do I do?"  
"First we have to sign you up for the program, I've got some papers that'll need signatures. Then you'll have to book a flight," she paused for a moment and turned to her computer, "do you have travel insurance?"  
"Yes,"  
"Who are you with?"  
"Eight-Ite-Flight," she typed something on her computer. Jack was surprised that she was helping him out this much. Most doctors he knew would hand him a flyer and be done with it.  
"Good news! They cover accommodation if the total cost is under €1000." How convenient, it seemed too good to be true.  
"Hang on, I'll print the paper work and then I can get you some appointments." She stood up and marched out of the room to collect them from the printer.

A few minutes passed. She had brought in the papers, he had signed what he could and they had booked some times to get signatures.

"Alright, that's all I can do for you unfortunately," she said, a sad expression plastered on her pretty face.  
"Right! Well I'd better go pack my bags." Jack stood up immediately. He grasped Gizmo's carrier, being sure not to wake the sleeping pup.  
"Wait!" The doctor practically shouted. She then retreated as though she were embarrassed, "Don't forget to give Gizmo her regular medication." Was that all? Jack felt like she was keeping something from him. Perhaps not though. Perhaps he was being delusional.  
"I won't." The words had a sharp edge to them. Jack hadn't intended for that to happen. "Thank you for all your help!" He said cheerily in hopes of cancelling out the edge of his previous sentence. The doctor gave him a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yes...Go...Don't stop...

"What?" Jack yanked his head from his keyboard to find that he was back in his cabin. He had fallen asleep at the computer; again. What had he just heard? It sounded like a snake, perhaps a husky voice. What did it say though? Go? Stop? It was probably nothing. It was just a dream.

He must've pushed a key when he woke up because when Jack looked in front of him, the screen on his computer was lit up as bright as the sun. The light was piercing at first but after a second or two, his eyes adjusted. Google Chrome was open. Ah yes, he was booking a flight. LA.

As he glanced around the room he spotted to his right, his cozy, warm bed, with the soft, moulding duvet. Jack wanted to sink into it and never come out again. The only thing stopping him was the open suitcase that lay on top. It was half packed with a few sets of clothes, his toothbrush and toothpaste, his laptop and an assortment of extra thingamabobs. Around it, in neat little piles, Jack had sorted various items.

By golly, did his bed look comfortable. He desperately tried not to imagine himself in it. Lying, relaxed, face first into the cotton pillow. Oh wow, am I that tired? Jack shook himself out of the trance. It suddenly came to Jack's attention that there was a mysterious absence of light being emitted from behind the curtains of the one window in the room. Of course, he hadn't noticed it at once, the natural light never really made much of a difference in this part of the country. It appeared to be dark outside. Eyes still droopy, Jack stared in the corner of his computer screen to read four numbers printed out plainly, 06:17.

6am? When had he fallen asleep? Why did he wake up now of all times? Oh yes, the dream. What had that voice been saying?

Oow! Oow! Canine whines were accompanied by the rhythmic clash of Gizmo's claws with the kitchen floor. Guess she's dreaming. Hoping for something to wake him up a little more, Jack picked himself up and forcefully carried his still sleeping body to the kitchen to observe Gizmo, and comfort her, if needed.

Having entered the kitchen, Jack was presented with an adorable brown and white puppy, running through fields or chasing a cat in her sleep. Her legs flailed from back to front, attempting to make it through whatever landscape she was traversing in her endeavour. It was an interesting experience, watching someone dream. It was like seeing them in another world even though they were still present in this one.

Gizmo's eyes flew open in a panic. Her pupils were small and then grew big as they adjusted to the light. Her entire body froze. Except her chest. It was heaving in and out, in and out, in and out. It continued in this fashion for a few seconds. Her pupils then returned to their regular size and they fell onto Jack who was also, still as a wall. She was whining the saddest of whines Jack had ever heard.

Without a thought Jack reached for his puppy to console her, hushing her whimpering. It was heart breaking to see her like this, especially in this state of her health. The moment Jack's warm hand pressed against Gizmo's skin, she was at ease. "It's okay girl! It was just a dream!" He said, slowly stroking her soft fur.

Jack released a breath he didn't know he was holding in. With new relief in him, he curled up next to Gizmo, clutching her paw like she was a small child. In mere seconds, her eyes were sealed and she was sleeping again. She breathed long and slow breaths into Jack's face, causing his hair to flap about in small motions. Her breath wasn't the most delightful smell, but considering the circumstances, he was glad there was breath there at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack awoke to untrimmed claws and leathery paws clambering over his face. He squeezed his eyes shut as if the simple gesture would protect them. "Oi! Gizmo!" He let out a belly laugh at her ignorance. Probably frightened, she bounded of off his face, almost piercing his skin. "Ah-ha-how!" He whined through bright laughter. Gizmo seemed to think it was a game of sorts and placed her front paws on Jack's chest the leaped of off him again. "Oi! Just what do you think you're doing?" The sentence was still muffled through laughter as he sat up, rubbing his eyes free of the morning gunk.

When he opened them again, a playful pup had her bum high in the air, a hyperactive tail flailing on the end. She began to bound around mockingly and then sped off at the speed of light. Halfway down the hall, she peered behind her to check if Jack was coming. "Alright! Alright! I'm coming!" He huffed. With a newly found energy, Jack pushed himself up and ran after Gizmo who continued to run towards the end of the hall.

She stopped at the front door and waited for Jack to catch up. When he appeared by her side, she held her tongue out and wagged her tail at a steady pace, all the while staring up at Jack.

Jack understood the request immediately and glanced out the nearest window to discover it was raining cats and dogs. "Sorry girl, it's raining." The smart pup read his face like a book and her tail ceased its waggling. She glanced down at the floor, saddened. "Oh, don't be like that." Jack squatted down to her size to talk to her. "We'll have fun inside, hey?" The note of happiness in his voice make her head perk up slightly as if thinking about his suggestion. She apparently concluded her thoughts and trotted back down the hall to the kitchen.  
Jack hated to be the one to end the fun like that but the doctors had told him not to let her out in the rain. He wasn't going to take a risk. It had to be done.

Jack took the opportunity to continue planning the trip to LA while Gizmo was occupied and made his way to his bedroom where his computer sat, waiting. The screen was dark but the tiny LED underneath it was bright blue, indicating the computer was still on. He slumped down into his chair and wiggled the mouse. The screen lit up, full of energy and the mindless search resumed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack presented the pass that had been given to him to the lady checking his passport. It showed that he was allowed to take Gizmo with him onto the plane. Of course, there were restrictions. She had to be in her carrier at all times, excrements had to be disposed of in the bathroom and she had to be quiet. This was the hardest part. He had of course, practiced being quiet with Gizmo, but it was no easy task to keep her that way. Especially for long periods of time. He had taken a test to earn the pass, to show that Gizmo was well behaved enough to accompany him on the plane. She had passed the test but it had only lasted a few minutes, ten at most. Jack could only hope that she might fall asleep or something to make it easier for him.

"It's all good! You go right on in sir!" She said with a smile.  
"Thank you!" Jack was let through the gate and into the waiting room. He wasn't surprised that there were so many people. It was LA after all. LA. He wasn't sure if he was terrifically excited or terrifically terrified.

"Here we are Gizmo! We're one step closer to curing you!" Jack peered down into her carrier to find her fast asleep. He sighed and looked up at the huge window-wall in front of him. It was one of those lucky autumn days, the ones that were sunny. The warm light radiated onto his skin and he relished the feeling. The window opened out to the runways where he saw four, maybe five planes. One of them was taking off, speeding down the runway getting ready to leap off the ground into the air. A couple were docked into the building and there was one that apparently just landed.

Jack's eyes scanned the room for an empty seat. He spotted two near the small Starbucks that was at the end of the room. I could use some caffeine right now. Jack recalled the many sleepless nights he'd had in the past week or so. With that in mind, he made his way towards the seats and plonked his carry-on down in the one on the left, marking the seat as his own and placed Gizmo carefully on the one next to it. Jack reluctantly stepped away from the dog towards the Starbucks to buy himself a coffee.

Perhaps thirty minutes later, Jack heard a woman's voice echoing throughout the airport announcing it was time for him to board his plane. With hope dancing in his eyes, he grabbed his carry-on and gently handled Gizmo's carrier. She started to stir. Jack peered inside to talk to her, "You ready girl? We gotta be quiet now." He emphasised the word 'quite' as that was the prompt word they had practiced together. It was no easy fete but they got there eventually.

Jack, a little disoriented, followed the crowd of people that were now hustling and bustling to get to a ramp which lead to the portal, as he called it, because when he went through the 'portal' and onto the air bridge, it was like entering another dimension. Once you went through the 'portal' there was no going back, you were going on that plane whether you wanted to or not.

After making his way down the ramp, Jack was hardly able to walk through the portal himself. The crowds basically pushed him through. It was unbelievably claustrophobic in there, especially with all those people. But still, he glided along with the rest of the crowd, eventually entering the plane where he was greeted by a flight attendant with a huge smile pasted on her face, "Welcome aboard! We hope you enjoy your flight!" It sounded rehearsed and fake but he knew how hard it must be to remain content after possibly full minutes of greeting new passengers so he nodded with a smile and continued down the isle to find his seat.

Jack had a few stares aimed at him when people saw what was in the pet carrier. He wasn't surprised, it was an unusual thing to find a dog in a plane. He found his seat close to the middle of the plane and saw that thankfully there was a free one next to it. He put Gizmo in the window seat and sat himself in the outside one.

A few moments passed and so did a few people. Gizmo had not made a sound since they boarded the plane. Jack bent forward and whispered to Gizmo through the bars, "You're doing great!" He said with his right thumb poked up. Gizmo stood up with her tongue hanging out and tail waggling as much as it would in such a small space. Jack laughed softly and gestured for her to lie down again, giving her the prompt as she did so, "We still have to be quiet though," and as though it was all meant to be, she fell into a deep sleep right then and there.

"Welcome aboard everyone! This is your captain speaking," a man's voice filled the plane, "We are about to take off, please fasten your seatbelt and pay attention to the safety video being played on the monitor in front of you." The screen on the back of the chair in front of Jack lit up and, as the captain had said, a safety video played informing him of the three emergency exits, the oxygen masks above him and and the life jacket in his seat. When the video was over the captain continued, "Thank you everybody for joining us this afternoon and enjoy your flight, we will take off momentarily." A clicking sound could heard, indicating that the captain's microphone had been turned off.

With that, the plane started slowly moving forwards around the airport, gaining speed as it went. After what felt like hours, the plane drove to the end of the runway and sped down the long road until Jack felt a lurching in his stomach. The plane had leapt off the ground and was on its way to California.

As the ground grew further and further away, Jack stared out the window and muttered to himself, "Goodbye Ireland."

 **PHEW! That was a lot to take in! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. If you did, then feedback** _ **really**_ **helps. Thank you and see you in Chapter V! :D**


	5. Chapter V - Destiny (Part 1)

**HAI GUYS! It's GraceyLIKEABOSS once again! ugh... I know what you're thinking... HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO WRITE A CHAPTER?! I am** ** _honestly_** **very sorry for the long wait** ** _but_** **as you can see, this is only Part 1. DON'T WORRY THO! I HAVE GOOD REEZON! When I was writing last night I glanced at the word count and I saw... NINE PAGES AND 3721 WORDS! And I wasn't even close to finishing so I decided, to keep you guys occupied, I would split this chapter into two parts. That's basically the long and the short of it. ANYWAY... Thank you guys again** ** _so much_** **for ALL your lovely reviews. Honestly, I never thought I could get this many readers. Ever. So THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! XD Anyways, I** ** _really_** **hope you enjoy this chapter. BAI!**

 **Wait! Before you go, I just wanted to mention that I will be putting swear words in this story from hear on out. I know, shocking. But I figure, if you guys watch Mark and Jack then you've already had a tonne of exposure to cussing soooooo yeah. It'll just make it more genuine and less repetitive. I mean, it's pretty boring to just say, "Mark swore" or "Jack swore" so just a warning. Okay NOW I'm done.**

It was the hardest time of the night again. The time when Mark woke up. It was usually around 3am. The hard part was, he was too tired to stay awake, but too awake to fall asleep. As a result, Mark often ended up lying in his bed, slowly drifting, but never going anywhere for hours on end.

It had been three weeks since the funeral and Mark still half expected to find Charlie waiting for him when he got back from work. Instead, he was greeted with a painfully empty apartment. Everyday. This was not the first time he had grieved of course, but the feeling kept getting progressively worse this time. It wasn't getting any better. Instead it just sank deeper and deeper into his skin until the sadness had begun to take over his mind, body and spirit.

This time, it was again, a nightmare that woke him. Although Mark couldn't remember many of the details, he was able to recall being chased by a woman. It was not human but he somehow knew that it was female. That was all he could cling onto. He had been lying there for almost an hour, he wasn't completely sure though. Mark noted that time often seemed a lot lengthier when one had nothing to do.

He was beyond tempted to reach for the phone that sat inches away from his face to check the time. He refrained from the urge, however. His psychiatrist had told him strictly not to use a screen at this time of night as it only made it more difficult to fall asleep. It was itching in his mind. _What time is it?_ The question was not the be all, end all of humanity but it certainly had an impact of sorts on his sanity.

 _What time is it?_ He questioned. Eventually, his brain caved in. Mark grabbed his phone and gently pressed the home key. The screen lit up, blaring. He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut to shield them from the piercing light. After a second or two, he cautiously opened one eye and then the other, letting them adjust to it. The familiar lock screen was presented before him, the answer to his question was printed in large digits on the top of the screen. They read "3:12". Mark sighed and locked his phone. He was used to this happening, but could never quite accept it.

Mark lay awake for another hour or two before he actually went to sleep. It wasn't the best of sleeps either. He lay tossing and turning throughout the night and before he felt even slightly rested, he woke up. Mark opened his eyes, half expecting the room to still be filled with shadows. Instead, it was gleaming. A beautiful light shone through the window, illuminating his bedroom.

He could see his wardrobe, his tiny desk, a shelf filled with a few books he hadn't touched in years and his phone on the floor. Only the screen was cracked. "Shit!" He uttered. Mark decided he must've dropped it before he drifted off. He got out of bed as quick as lightning and grabbed the phone. His hands shook violently as he spammed the power button. To Mark's relief, the screen lit up like it had hours ago after a few clicks. The only difference was, the time now read "8:23". Mark's heart sank.

"Fuck! Not again!" He immediately stood up and ran to his wardrobe, stripping himself as he went.

After a few precious minutes, Mark stood in front of his mirror, fully dressed in his work clothes, shoes and all. His hair was a little scruffy so he ran into the bathroom, grabbed a comb and tore it through his locks, untangling them with each stroke until his hair was neat. He stared at himself in the tiny mirror for a moment. His hair was neatly parted on the side, black and glossy. His glasses sat on his nose, same as always. Then Mark saw his eyes, huge purple bags hung beneath them, revealing to the entire world that he lacked sleep.

Mark glanced at the digital clock sitting next to the sink. 8:31. He groaned, knowing he would have to leave without breakfast or brushing his teeth- again. Annoyed, Mark stormed out of the bathroom, grabbed his keys from his bedside and headed out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

-xxXXXxx-

"What do you mean I can't stay?" Jack retorted into the phone. His plane had landed safely in Los Angles about half an hour ago and he was now sitting on a bench for a break after a lot of walking and a lot of bag collecting. There he received a phone call from his hotel who had just informed him that he could no longer stay there.

"I'm sorry Mr McLoughlin but something has come up." A male voice came from the phone.

"What has come up that is so important that you have to kick out a paying customer?" Jack wouldn't normally get this angry over the phone. He tried to make a friendly impression of himself most of the time, especially to a complete stranger. This particularly ticked him off though. Perhaps it was because he had no Plan B or that he had been required to repeat everything he said about a million times to everyone he spoke to. Either way, Jack wasn't a happy man at the time. The man on the phone mustn't have been either because his reply wasn't the friendliest. "First of all, you are not a paying customer, your insurance covers you, that's why we're kicking you out. And we have no reason to reveal our motives. All that I can tell you is that your room is no longer available and you can no longer stay with us."

"This is outrageous! Can I speak with your manager?"

"I am the manager." Jack's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Anger quickly replaced it. Jack grunted.

"Well, can you at least help me find more accommodation?"

"Unfortunately I can't. That is against our policies." _Policies?_ Talk about shitty customer service.

"Well, thank you for your _help_." He said sarcastically and hung up the phone, flustered.

He sat there, on the bench with his dog for a while, wondering what he should do about his predicament. Gizmo had woken up just ten minutes before the plane landed but thankfully remained quiet until they got off. It was a pain getting her through customs, the lady serving Jack had not heard of a pet pass before and doubted that he was allowed to have her. It took a good ten minutes before he was finally able to prove to her that Gizmo was a good puppy and was legally taken onto the plane. Jack laughed at the memory, although it was only twenty or so minutes ago, it felt like an eternity.

"We can't stay in our hotel anymore, Gizmo." Jack sighed to the pup. She seemed to recognize Jack's sadness and whimpered slightly to show sympathy. He chuckled softly at her cleverness. "What're we gonna do?" Part of him was asking Gizmo and part was asking himself. "What if we just, catch a bus to the nearest motel?" Jack waited for a reply from Gizmo and then realized that none was coming. "I spend too much time alone don't I?" He chuckled and stood up, all his bags in hand and began to search for the exit.

-xxXXXxx-

"Mr Fischbach," Mark heard Mr Dominus, not shout, but speak very loudly, from across the office. He peaked outside of his cubicle to see his boss leaning out from his office door across the room. What sort of trouble was he in? Mr Dominus only called for Mark if he had done something wrong. None the less, Mark reluctantly started towards the office.

"Take a seat," Mr Dominus said, his eyes buried beneath his brow. Mark did as he was told and slumped into the seat in front of Mr Dominus' desk.

"Mr Fischbach," he addressed Mark, "I have been thinking about what I said a few weeks ago," for the first time, Mark heard in Mr Dominus' voice, something that sounded like, remorse.

"I realise, it was incredibly unfair of me to ask you to stay late and miss your funeral." Rage bubbled through Mark's head. No. No, no, no. He would not be forgiven for what he put him through.

"I am sorry, I hope I can make it up to you." This emotion in Mr Dominus' voice was something Mark was not used to. He couldn't tell whether it was faked or genuine. It certainly sounded genuine. But Mark didn't want to believe him. Mr Dominus would not be forgiven for the sorrow Mark was put through.

So, rather than saying something like, "It's okay," or, "don't worry about it," Mark responded with a grunt. Mr Dominus sighed sadly. Mark was again unsure of its truthfulness but went along with it anyway.

"I was hoping you would be able to give this to Mr Barnes?" He handed Mark a yellow folder, a pleading look on his face. He wondered why Mr Dominus couldn't give it to him himself but none the less, he couldn't say no. So, he took the folder from him and stood up, leaving the office.

Mark knew a little bit about Mr Barnes from a short, seemingly meaningless, conversation he had with him once. He had a wife named Mollie and was currently living with her parents as they couldn't afford their own home. He was born in Cincinnati, which was a funny coincidence as that was the place Mark had grown up in as well. He seemed like a nice guy and Mark only hoped that the contents of the yellow folder contained good news, perhaps a promotion or a raise.

When Mr Barnes' cubicle came into sight, Mark politely knocked on the side, trying not to startle him. Mr Barnes turned his head sharply to see Mark's face peering into the cubicle. The man had curly brown hair, brown eyes and a gloriously friendly smile.

"Oh! Mr Fischbach! I didn't see you there!" He giggled lightly and Mark did in return.

"Um, Mr Dominus wanted me to give you this," Mark said unsurely and handed the folder to him.

"Oh… Thank you!" Mark could hear it in his voice. Mr Barnes was trying to cover his fear with fake joy. Hell, he could hardly blame him. Anything could've been in that folder and knowing Mr Dominus, it likely wasn't good.

Mr Barnes took the folder from him with shaking hands and gave Mark a nod of gratitude. Mark smiled weakly and started walking towards his own cubicle, fingers, toes and heart crossed for Mr Barnes.

After endless minutes spent reading emails, Mark heard footsteps heading towards the building exit. _It's 1:35, why in hell is anyone leaving?_ That thought in mind, Mark peeked out from his cubicle to see who it was. His heart skipped a beat. It was Mr Barnes.

He was holding two medium-sized boxes of things Mark could recall were in his office before. Tears were streaming down his face and Mark could hear his light sobbing. _Oh no. Fuck no. No, no, no, no. What did I give him?_ All these questions ran through Mark's head as he got up from his seat and ran to Mr Barnes.

"Hey! What's with all the boxes?" Mark knew fully well what was with all the boxes but he had to ask, just in case. Mr Barnes sniffled and adjusted his grip on the boxes.

"Oh, hi Mr Fischbach," he looked at Mark and then at his feet, his brown eyes filled with sadness. It pained Mark to see him this way. "Let's just say, you won't be seeing much more of me." It was true. Mr Barnes had lost his job. If it were Mark, he would be rejoicing but Mr Barnes was living with his wife's parents. He could hardly afford to feed himself, let alone his wife. For Mr Barnes, this was a disaster.

"Oh no," Mark was filled with Mr Barnes's sadness, like a bucket, "I-I'm so sorry. Let me help you with that." Mark reached for one of the boxes.

"Thanks Mr Fischbach. You've been a good friend." He considered Mark a friend? After two conversations? His heart was filled with warmth for the first time in a very long while. He let a small smile creep onto his face as he took the box.

Then he heard more footsteps, coming for them. Mark closed his eyes and braced himself.

"Mr Fischbach," The devil had arrived, "why, are you not working?" The tone of shame that Mark heard before had completely left Mr Dominus. It now dawned on him what his real intentions were when he had come into his office. He had been used.

White hot anger burnt inside of him. He clenched his jaw and turned around to face him. "I'm _helping_ a friend." Mark said through gritted teeth.

"Get back to work!" He shouted in Mark's face as if he were a child. This time, oh, this time, Mark would not be the slave. He would _never_ be Mr Dominus' slave again.

"No."

"What did you say?"

"I said, NO!" Mark practically shouted at his boss, "You think I'm your slave?! Your minion?! Well, I'm past that, I'm done." Specks of saliva flew from his lips as Mark spat his response and turned back around, walking out of the building. Mr Barnes followed closely behind him, leaving Mr Dominus, standing there in shock.

 **Sorry about another cliff hanger. I know that every time I've said a chapter will come soon, it ends up taking multiple months.** ** _This time though,_** **I really mean it!** ** _THIS TIME, I WILL UPDATE..._** **Anyway, thank you guys so much for your support, see you in the next chapter, BAI!**


	6. Chapter V - Destiny (Part 2)

_**OKAY...**_ **It seems that** ** _every single time_** **I say I'll get a chapter out quickly it doesn't work. I am truly and solemnly sorry. XD Maybe I'll get it done quickly if I say I** ** _won't_** **get it done quickly. Okay guys! You can look forward to the next chapter in maybe, a few years? At best?**

 **Also, I've received some feedback on how depressing and sad this story has been so far. I promise it's a little bit more cheerful from here! XD I understand why you would say that. To be fair, I probably shouldn't have spent so much time on the set up BUT that's coming to an end now. Thank you guys again! Especially those of you who read the author's notes! :) Enjoy!**

Jack sat quietly in the bus staring blankly out the window, Gizmo in the seat next to him. The bus driver had also initially no let Gizmo on but a quick flash of Jack's pet pass and she said no more. Jack couldn't help but feel a little giddy as the bus cruised down the road. He was in _Los Angeles_. It was uncomfortably crowded but it was such an experience to be in the city itself. It was a huge change from his small cabin in the middle of nowhere but he was willing to make the most of it.

As he stared, Jack heard just barely, a tiny little growl in Gizmo's stomach. The small sound reminded Jack of his own hunger. He hadn't eaten in hours and hours. Despite the flight attendants offering him food, he hadn't accepted as he was worried the smell might wake Gizmo.

As thoughts of food filled his mind, the bus came to a halt. Jack's view of the world outside started to form shapes rather than a blur of colours. This was his stop. With a tired sigh, he stood up, grasped Gizmo and his luggage and walked out of the bus, giving the driver a friendly nod as he hopped off.

He came down one step and tumbled down the "second". There was no second step. Jack landed in a heap on the concrete as the bus drove off. _Son of a bitch._

Then his thoughts flew to Gizmo, whose carrier was no longer firm in his hands. His head swiveled around in a panicked search. The world was a blur of colours from the cars and buildings. Then they started slowly closing in on him like wolves.

Jack snapped. The world was clear again. He perked up at the strange sensation that he'd been there before, "Huh, déjà vu," Then to his right he saw the carrier on its side with the door wide open. Gizmo was not inside. "GIZMO!" Jack pulled himself off the ground and frantically picked up his luggage and the empty carrier. He spun around, checking every nook and cranny with his ever-moving eyes for the dog.

A small movement caught his eye and Jack saw a brown and white dog running away, about ten meters from him. "There you are!" Jack shouted. His heart skipped a beat as the curious pup ran onto the road.

"NOOO!" Jack hopelessly reached out for the dog despite her being meters away.

 _SCREECH!_ The tires of a car squealed as it came to a halt in front of Gizmo leaving her without a scratch. Without a second thought, Jack rushed onto the road and picked her up. He flashed the driver of the car and apologetic look and mouthed the word, "Sorry!" then ran off the road.

-xxXXXxx-

It felt good to finally be free of the shackles. The shackles that were forcefully locked onto Mark's bleeding wrists. With his hands now free to do as they pleased, they helped Mr Barnes to load his car. With that, they shook hands, tears still streaming down Mr Barnes' face. Mark absolutely hated to see anyone other than himself in such a state and couldn't help but embrace him.

"I'm so sorry Mr Barnes. I wish you only the best for you and your wife," Mark said as hot tears of his own appeared.

"Call me Wade," he revealed a sad smile and pulled Mark in closer. _It's this sort of feeling I need in my life again._ Mark heard faint sobs over his shoulder and salty water on his shirt.

Reluctantly, Mark pulled away, still gripping Wade's shoulders and reassured him, "It'll be fine. You're an amazing guy and will _not_ fail to find employment again. Your wife loves you and her parents love you. You're better off than you might think." Mark's heart longed for the love that Wade had, the love that Charlie had given him. _Damn it,_ he thought, annoyed with himself. _She's gone. She's not coming back…_

Wade nodded and sniffed. "Yeah, you're right. Thank you again so much for your help!" He smiled once more and started making his way to his car.

"No problem at all! You can call me anytime you like!"

"Thanks!" With that, Wade disappeared into his car and silently drove off, leaving Mark on the curb, empty handed and jobless.

Jobless. Unemployed. The contract. As the dust cleared it began to sink in. The contract. The contract he had signed stated that he would receive no other income than that of Mr Dominus for three years. How could such a contract even be _legally_ created? Right then and there, in the streets of LA, Mark let out a shriek and fell to his knees in a hot and messy heap.

His breathe shook, " _It's okay… Eleven months… That's all it is… You can survive…_ " He told himself. But deep down, Mark knew… he had made a mistake.

He felt eyes of surrounding pedestrians lock on him as he fell to tears once more. Could he ever get through one day without having a mental breakdown? One man who was standing by the bus stop was staring awfully long. "What're you looking at?" Mark growled. Without a word the man returned to staring at his feet rather than at Mark.

He stood up and began to walk to where he had parked his car. It was quite a walk, maybe fifteen minutes, but he made it there, no less grumpy than he was before. When he arrived, he got in the car and slammed the door. As it shut, he felt freedom in his wrists again, despite being unemployed. Mark's mind went back and forth, back and forth, wondering if it should be relieved or scared.

Should he feel relieved that he had some freedom? It was a heavy freedom though, it was a freedom he wasn't allowed to have. But it was still freedom! Should he not be grateful for it? His mind continued to wander as he drove. He almost didn't see the brown and white dog jump in front of his car.

 _SCREECH!_ Mark slammed his foot into the brakes! _Is it alright?_ He looked as far forward as he could to try see if it was okay. Instead he saw a brown-haired man run onto the road and grab the dog. The man that Mark assumed to be its owner then mouthed to him what looked like the word, "sorry". Before Mark could nod his head to say, "Don't worry about it", the man ran off the road in the way he came.

 _That was close._ Mark was surprised that he wasn't mad at the man for not keeping his dog under control. He had a special connection with dogs. As a child, he had owned two that had helped him through sleepless nights and restless days for many years.

He received a few honks from a couple of cars that were behind him but Mark just felt relieved that the innocent dog was still alive. He drove on to the end of the road and turned left onto his street. Eyeing the car park next to his apartment building, he turned and came a stop.

A few minutes later, Mark had climbed the stairs to his apartment on the first floor, dumped his bag and opened the fridge. He wasn't too surprised to see that it was almost empty. He never worried much about how full it was. One of the bonuses of his job was that they provided food. Because of this, he didn't _have_ to worry but now he did.

With a sigh, he closed the fridge and decided he would go to the grocery store for the first time in a few weeks. Still in a reasonably good mood, he walked out the door once more, locking it behind him.

-xxXXXxx-

"Don't _ever_ do that again!" Jack told Gizmo in his 'angry' voice. He could never _really_ be angry at Gizmo. This was one of the few times there was some real anger in it. Not only had she put herself in danger, she put him in danger and humiliated him. He didn't _really_ care about himself though. Most of him was just glad that the driver had stopped in time. With his heart thumping, he put the pup into her carrier and collected all his bags.

Then, hauling everything in his arms, he continued to his motel which was conveniently around the corner. It took him about ten minutes to walk the distance. He tried to absorb as much of the city as he could in 50 meters. The sun was starting to set and there were a few scarce clouds in the sky. The road beside him wasn't super loud but was still frequently occupied.

The motel was a small building with a few trees surrounding it, a reasonably sized car park and a neon "MOTEL" sign on it. It seemed just out of the motels he'd seen in films. He was in Los Angeles, to be fair.

When Jack came in, he was greeted by a man behind a desk labelled, "Reception".

"Hi! Welcome to Hi-tel! Here we offer quality accommodation for low prices!" He said it in a rather well-rehearsed fashion with a pasted smile on his face.

"Oh, hi!" Jack greeted the man cheerily, "I booked a room here about an hour ago."

"Last name?" He questioned him.

"McLoughlin."

"Uh-huh," the man typed something on his computer and then responded with, "ID?" Jack fumbled through his pocket attempting to retrieve his wallet. He then picked out his driver's licence and placed it on the desk. The man took a look at it for a moment and then told him, "You're room 14." He slid a small key across the desk and uttered, "Enjoy the rest of your day sir."

"Thank you! You as well!" Jack smiled, happy that he finally had a place to rest.

Once Jack arrived at his room, he threw his luggage onto the bed and took himself with it. Thankfully he refrained from flinging Gizmo's carrier across the room too. He just lay there for just a few minutes, staring at the ceiling letting the events of the day finally sink in. He felt his blood spread evenly throughout his body letting off the tingly sensation one feels when they relax after a long day.

Then his trance was interrupted once again by a rumbly in his tumbly. Jack sighed, remembering he didn't have any food and that this was a motel so they certainly didn't offer any.

On most occasions, Jack would've skipped a meal but considering the circumstances, he decided that he _had_ to get food. Jack recalled seeing a supermarket half-way down the street Gizmo was almost killed on. He shuddered at the memory. It may have only been fifteen or so minutes ago, but it felt distant, as though it had happened weeks earlier.

Jack wasn't sure he trusted Gizmo in the streets of LA at the moment. He decided he would let her out of her carrier and let her run around the room a little bit while he was out shopping. She really needed the exercise after hours stuck in that stinky carrier. It did occur to him that she might ruin the place or bark at a young couple on their honeymoon that might be making a lot of noise next door. He chuckled at the thought. However, one thing Jack did trust Gizmo to do was behave. Being such a smart and well trained pup, having sat through a long ass flight without making a sound, Jack wouldn't give the job to anyone else.

That in mind, he sat up and took a peek inside Gizmo's carrier to see her brown and white body, shadowed by the box. She was awake but just looked a bit bored. "Hey Gizmo!" He whispered, "I'm going to let you out while I'm out shopping so you better behave!" He made sure to add a tone of strictness in his voice to make sure that she knew he meant business.

She turned her head to look at Jack not expressing much feeling. It was a face of acknowledgement. Jack then eased the door open and Gizmo cautiously stepped onto the duvet, observing her surroundings. She sniffed the air a little as Jack stood up and made his way to the door. "I'll be back with food for the both of us, alright?" with that, he left the motel room, locking it behind him.

-xxXXXxx-

Mark sighed as he stared at the shelf where the store kept the Ramen noodles. He grabbed a few packets of six and put them in his basket. Then he marked his mental list and moved to the produce area. They kept all the fruit and vegetables organised in crates unlike the rest of the store.

 _What did I need again? Oh yeah, carrots._ There was another man standing by the same crate. Mark didn't take much note until he spoke to him in a thick accent, "Excuse me, do you know where I can find the dog food?"

Without lifting his head, Mark replied, "Not in the Produce isle!" and he chuckled before looking up. Mark ceased his laughter as he saw the man's face. "Hey, uh, correct me if I'm wrong but, I think I saw you earlier, with a brown dog?"

 **If you made it this far, CONGRATULATIONS! I'm sorry that this was a long one, hopefully you guys are still enjoying it! I'm having a TONNE of fun writing this and I can't wait to show you what happens next! Sooooo, see you in the next chapter!**


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